Freedom Within Reach

At work, the smell of morning coffee was spreading. Work was very "worky," the people were "peopling," light metal music played in my earbuds, and the silence of the universe filled my mind."Hi Mark, how are you?""Hi Susan, what do you want?""Could you act a little bit more friendly?""Sure," I said, trying to keep my eyes from rolling down the street.The coffee was nice and strong. Nothing pointed toward a bad day. If the coffee I made—more than four times a day—was good, then the day would be good; there were no signs of a bad alignment of objects in the universe. My OCD was on and off from time to time. I was nothing like the colleague I worked with last summer. She was absolute bonkers—"OCD-insane," pedal to the metal.What is next? I thought. Are you going to self-diagnose and beg for pity? Just do the things life expects of you. It doesn't need to be in any specific order.I was enjoying a new game on my phone. Yeah, at work. I know. No one actually works at work anymore, if we’re being honest. The FBI integrated AI to track what people are doing, and they just found out that everyone is doing less work and more surfing the net, trying to find some kind of meaning in this endless, repeating cycle.The room wasn't lively; it was a mix of tension and stress. I was relaxed, though. For the most part, things only got annoying in the game, not the work. Sometimes I would play the early game badly and struggle through the mid-game, only to completely lose in the end. Typical for me."Mark, did you hear the drama that happened in the office below us? Someone spit in someone's face.""Susan, I will spit on you as well if you don't leave me alone.""Ha! Good one, Mark.""Do you want coffee, Susan?""No, no, I’m good. You know I can't take that poison you call coffee.""Oh yeah. How are your cats, Susan? I've only got one. Oh yeah, how is he? His name is Prince Henry Camelot.""Brilliant name, Sus," I said."Thank you, Mark. You see? You can be nice sometimes.""Of course. You’re my best friend; I’ll be nice to you... sometimes.""Why do you call me your best friend?""I don't know. I hate you, so it’s funny. Shut up, dude.""Great talking to you."The water was bubbling, and someone from some department was telling me about the importance of the military. The bubbling meant I needed to add the coffee, right? Why was I just blankly staring at the water? Add the coffee. Move your body and pour it in.Then I noticed two women from the "Kill Squad"—the squad that decided who we kill this week. They were arguing about how men are softer these days, and how women are stronger and more capable. One based this on the fact that no man helped her when her car broke down today. The other agreed immediately, bashing all men and talking about mandatory military training. I wanted to go.They asked me what I thought. "Do you think everyone’s gone softer?""Sure, sure. Soft. Yep. I’ve got a lot of work, sorry."Natasha and Barbara continued chatting in the kitchen for some time. The Death Squad meeting started. Smith went over the list, name by name, asking for feedback, analysis, and reasons."Barbara, I see you have put the list of hot Hollywood actors who married recently on here again. You have to stop doing that.""Yes, sir.""Also, Natasha, what is this list? Have we all gone insane? This is a very famous actor; he’s in this espionage series I’m watching. What is he doing here?""We suspect him of networking with some very suspicious guys from the espionage world.""Espionage world, my foot. Don't let AI do your work for you. Okay, so we’ve done nothing today. You’re all dismissed.""But sir—""Don't 'but sir' me. When you get something real, come back in here."Natasha and Barbara gossiped in the hallway about Mr. Smith. I went to Mr. Smith’s office and reported it directly. "They are annoying, sir.""Yes, they will be let go. Don't worry.""Ok, sir. They’re doing a bad job.""Keep up the good work, Mark."The day was only half done, but I was fully done. Maybe another coffee. Some guy sent an email saying he wanted to retire from the spy world. I quickly answered that I wasn't the one in charge and that he could write to someone else.People around me looked really busy; I almost felt bad for them. But then again, I always try to look busy, too. It doesn't mean anything. I’ve looked busy since I crawled out of the hospital on my birthday."Sir, it looks like the local mafia stopped using the church as a cover for their schemes.""Great.""Not great, sir. I’m looking into it, and I suspect they are starting an orphanage business.""What? How dare they! What’s next, an old folks' home?""Actually—""Don't tell me. I don't want to know. Just send the info to my desk.""Right. You doing okay? Everything going alright?""Just perfect.""Really?""No.""Oh.""How about you, sir?""Yeah, same.""Unlucky.""Yeah, 'bad RNG' is what people like you would probably say.""Right, sir.""Anyhow, I need to go take care of some stuff. Just keep pushing.""Like always, sir. Don't worry."Smith was walking toward his office when he got a message from Sophia: We need to talk. He exhaled deeply.Smith met Sophia in a coffee shop. He was surprised; Sophia seemed different. He ordered tea for both."Look, we need to talk.""From the message, it almost seemed like you were breaking up with me?""Yeah.""Damn. Did you find someone else? Is he better than me? How long has this been going on?""Yeah, I found someone. And she isn't 'better,' she’s just different.""Double damn. Why him and not me? Was I not good enough? Can we try one more time?""It’s a 'her,' not a 'him.' Do you even listen to me? I just like her now.""Well, at least you found someone to help you. I’m glad. Listen, I have a lot of work. You can finish the tea, I’ll pay, and let's never see each other again. That seems fair."Sophia was very confused by Smith's reaction, but breakups never go as planned. They don't have a system or "normal" reactions. Smith left.Sophia called Clair and sent her location. Sophia ordered two soups and a breadstick with onions. Sophia had started learning French for Clair. She hadn't seen any intention from Clair to learn English, which was weird, as Clair must have struggled.Months passed, and Sophia and Clair were now inseparable. Sophia could understand Clair and speak to her in broken French."Darling, why will you never learn English?"Clair’s eyes glazed over Sophia’s red hair. "I hate it, and I am bad at languages.""That’s it?""Yeah.""Well, that’s a bit of an anticlimactic response.""What did you expect? That my grandfather was a war veteran killed by an Englishman with English words and grammar over an English breakfast, and that now, because of my heritage, I swore never to speak it?""I didn't understand everything you said, but I get the gist. You’re just always so simple. I like that.""Life can be simple. Don’t try to overcomplicate it. Smoke?""Sure. I don't smoke, but I will smoke for you. Also, why do you smoke so much? Is it a French thing?""It’s a 'me' thing. But yeah, the French do it sometimes.""Right. Also, we do need to clean the apartment a little bit. I’m grateful you let me stay, but that place is a mess.""I know, but I’m just so lazy. Can we just get someone else to do it?""I can do it, Clair. It’s the least I can do.""Oh, please. We can do it together. Don't think you are in debt to me. Look, we French... no one likes us. We hate everyone. But you, mon ami, are special. I love people. I can't manipulate them. My ex did it to me. That good-for-nothing dude just used me to get info and infiltrate circles I had access to. Now I have nothing, mon ami. You can't use me. We can do it together, and then get drunk, because I really like to drink. It is my passion; don't even try to stop me or change me. I will drink until I die."Sophia saw sadness in Clair. The weight on Sophia's shoulders had lessened, but she saw weight on Clair now. Did she really think she could drink her whole life?"Okay, I like to drink as well. I will be your drinking buddy.""Sophia, my love, you need to find yourself. You need to do things you want to do. You need to be free. Don't worry about others all the time. You don't have to smoke for me, drink with me, or clean up with me. You can just be free and do what you like.""Life is not like that. Things aren't that simple.""But they can be.""I quit. Wilson quit his job. I will find something better, don't worry, darling.""How can you quit now? Are you even thinking about the child? Are you even thinking about me?""Funny you said that. I quit to spend more time with you.""Are you crazy? How are we going to live? Who is going to pay the bills? Wilson, you’re scaring me.""Darling, I’m rich. I saved enough money so that I don't have to work ever—and you won't have to, either.""But still?""Still what, darling?""Don't you worry about not doing anything?""I will work on something when I get inspiration.""Okay, honey. But don't become lazy, or I will murder you, haha.""Of course.""You know, it’s sad to me that you don't have to work. I mean, I’m not sad for us, but it makes me sad that other people must work. They are locked up, chained to work.""I know, darling. It makes me sad as well. The imaginary chains the cashier can’t break until the shift ends. The shackles a waiter has on his leg until all the people leave the restaurant. It’s invisible pain, so it’s easy to ignore. I hate it when the restaurant’s time is done and people are still sitting there. Let the people who work there go home, you senseless people. It’s like freedom is within reach, but there’s this obstacle you can’t overcome. Because if you attack them, they will make a fuss.""I don't know why so many things are hard, but it makes me so sad.""I don't know either. We are empathetic beings, but sometimes we need not to be, just so we aren't sad every moment of the day.""You want me to be less empathetic?""No, you can be, but don’t overdo it.""How is Sophia? Since we’re on the topic of empathy.""I haven't heard from her. Maybe we could go somewhere with her and Smith soon.""Good idea."